All That Lies Between Us
by alien09
Summary: Inspired ficlets featuring NCIS/Bones from my 'Red Shoes' universe. Jeanne. Ziva. Love. Tony thinks about this over some scotch.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n: this takes place within my 'Red Shoes' NCIS/Bones universe. I strongly recommend you read that otherwise you won't have a clue what's going on here. As per requests, it's going to be all those moments that I couldn't put in that particular. **

**This takes place after Chapter 35 and during Chapter 36. Enjoy!**

The problem was, Tony reflected, that he was all too aware of how _much_ of a woman Ziva was. Since the moment she had strolled into the bull pen, the thick wavy hair with that olive skin and incredible lithe figure, Tony had known he was in trouble.

Anthony DiNozzo had spent much of his life chasing after women. Usually, he would smile and turn up the charm and they would fall at his feet. It had been a game to him at first, seeing how many he could bed - and how many he could keep wanting to come back for more. During college, being part of a fraternity, it had seemed like an appropriate rite of passage into adulthood. But he was older now, and with age he had started to question the validity of his lifestyle.

The thought of settling down with one woman was beginning to sound appealing, he had realized one day, a blonde named Candy curled up beside him. Drifting listlessly from one woman to the next, realizing that none of them made him want to put in the effort to learn more about them, had gone stale.

Then he had met Caitlin Todd. He had never had many female friends. In fact, Tony mused, he had never really wanted any female friends. Girlfriends – and he used that word somewhat loosely – were more his thing. But Kate came along with her Catholic schoolgirl sensibilities, preaching to him the virtues of a serious, emotional relationship, and Tony felt something shift beneath him. Kate was interesting. Smart. Funny. Unafraid to play with the big boys. Incredibly attractive.

Plus, the DiNozzo charm had no effect on her whatsoever.

Their playful flirting had slowly evolved to become a strong friendship. They were partners, and she had his back just as much as he did hers.

This was new to him. Growing up, his mother had spent most of her time lounging by the pool at the Country Club. Tony had been brought up by a carousel of nannies. Once high school ended, he had grasped at the Ohio State scholarship and packed his bags.

Tony had gotten the plague. Kate had stayed with him. Ari came back. The next thing he knew, Tony was standing around a dark pine coffin laying roses on the top. Abby was sobbing into McGee's shoulder, Gibbs and Ducky both silent and staring unseeingly ahead.

Tony had stood apart from them, his fitted black suit and white shirt immaculate. Temperance Brennan was beside him, grasping his hand. He remembered looking down in amazement, wondering when he had let another Caitlin Todd into his life. Temperance was infuriating and beautiful, and despite the sadness that Tony recognized reflected back in her eyes, he knew how lucky he was to have her.

It just hurt that the person who had allowed him to realize this was now buried beneath six feet of earth.

He didn't cry at Kate's funeral. Temperance had understood why, he knew. They both disliked letting their weaknesses show. The rest of the NCIS team treated him like spun glass. Tony decided maybe they were right when he started seeing Kate in that infamous uniform of hers.

Ziva David, then, was an unwelcome but needed introduction. Kate's death had thrown them all off track, Tony knew. Despite the initial hostility they had shown her, Ziva soon insinuated herself into the team and Tony thought he had found another Kate, another Tempe.

He was wrong.

The Israeli was an enigma. Not in the way that she didn't wear her heart on her sleeve – both Kate and Tempe did the same – but that she both repelled and pulled him in at the same time. From the minute they had discussed page fifty-seven, the underlying sexual tension between them was always just _there_.

At first he had put it down to novelty. She was different to all the women he knew. She was well-read and street smart, though her knowledge of the local vernacular left much to be desired. Ziva was also not quick to trust. He could see her struggling within herself, trying to mediate the internal war about whether it was okay for her to place this much faith in the three men she worked with.

What little he knew about her – and it was _extremely _piecemeal – often frightened him. Imagining Ziva growing up in a veritable warzone, and not getting to really enjoy her childhood or allowing herself the luxury of indulging in childish fun, often brought up parallels with Temperance. They had both suffered so much and the scars they carried, both internal and external, made Tony want to lock them up somewhere safe and peaceful.

But then, Jeanne Benoit had come into his life. While Ziva had always remained an impossibility, Jeanne was _normal_. Well, as normal as one could expect when your father was a criminal mastermind. She found his knowledge of film interesting, and Tony could imagine himself spending hours doing nothing but watching her talk. Her face would light up, and those dimples would appear in her cheek.

But he would look at Jeanne's smooth porcelain skin, light eyes and red hair and some part of him would wish it was someone else. And he hated himself for that.

'_What _Tony?' Ziva demanded. Tony cringed. She must have noticed him staring. He had forgotten how sharp her radar was.

'Look Ziva, what I said back at the lab was a joke. Just a little light-hearted humour between friends that isn't meant to be taken seriously.'

Ziva's exasperated sigh, when it came, was quiet and concealed. _Much like the woman herself_, Tony thought.

'It is fine,' she told him, eyes on the road. Yeah. That was _real _convincing.

'Look-'

'I said that it is _fine _Tony. Right now, I would like very much for this journey to be completed in silence.'

'In all the time you've known me, have I _ever _listened when you say stuff like that?'

'Sometimes I doubt you listen at all.'

'What is that supposed to mean?' Tony asked, trying to gauge the expression on Ziva's face. Her mask though, was almost as immaculate as his.

'Forget I said anything,' Ziva finally replied, waving her hand about in a sharp, jerky movement. 'Right now what is important is apprehending Natalie Dalton.'

'You know,' Tony started, trying to keep his tone light. 'Whenever we talk about your feelings, it never goes anywhere.'

Ziva turned sharply to face him, eyes flaring. 'Just because I do not prance around with that incredibly shallow smile you have on your face, does not mean I do not have feelings.'

'Hey! I don't _prance_. I walk around with a confident gait. And I'm not saying you don't have feelings, okay? Let's make that clear. What I'm _trying _to say is that you should, you know, express yourself more.'

'By relating everything that happens to a movie, and subjecting everyone to terrible impersonations?' There was a distinct edge to Ziva's words, so subtle that if you didn't really know her, it would pass right by you.

'Well then, maybe I should just fall in love with a dead man walking? Because you know, the chances of-' The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, as always seemed to be the case around his partner. The woman had a way of crawling under his skin, noticing things about him that he tried desperately to keep hidden from everyone else.

'_Shut up_.' Ziva hissed, her body tensing and stiffening. 'Say another word Tony and I will not be held accountable for my actions.'

An awkward tension filled the air, Ziva gripping the steering wheel and pushing her foot down on the accelerator.

'That was out of line.'

'It was.' Her reply was curt.

'I shouldn't have said that.'

'I agree.'

Tony slumped, releasing a breath. 'I'm sorry.'

Ziva didn't respond, though Tony thought he saw some of the blood rush back into her knuckles. The trees, he noticed, also seemed to be slightly less blurry.

'I know how much you care. I can see it in your eyes. They don't shut up even when you say you don't want to talk.'

It wasn't really an apology. They would say hurtful words to each other, never really letting the other know that they regretted them.

But like all things between them, exoneration came unspoken.

Tony just wished that the distance he could feel growing between him and the team, between him and Temperance, between him and Ziva, suddenly didn't seem so wide.

Peering at Ziva out of the corner of his eye as she screeched to a stop behind Booth, he hoped that Anthony DiNardo wouldn't be something that she would never forgive.


	2. Chapter 2

_You can do this DiNozzo. Just take a breath and lay out all the facts in a nice, logical manner. The woman appreciates facts. She mentions it every damn day._

'Tony? Is there a reason you accosted me?' Temperance Brennan asked, leaning her head to the side. Tony swallowed in response, resisting the urge to pull the collar that seemed to be getting tighter around his throat.

'Do you ever really need one to be alone with me?' He joked, smiling widely at her. Obviously, she didn't share his amusement.

'Okay fine,' Tony finally conceded. 'I'm not really…I'm coming to you because I need a…what's that word you like to use? Rational. That's it. I need a rational, objective view on something.'

'I am extremely rational, yes,' Temperance agreed with him, nodding.

Across the room, he could almost feel the negative vibes shooting off Ziva since their conversation in the car. They had exchanged the barest minimum of words. No quick comebacks. No mangling of metaphors for him to correct. She had even started referring to him by his family name, earning him reproachful looks from both Gibbs and McGee.

He needed advice. Ducky had been an option, before he had quickly discarded that notion. Gibbs, obviously, would mean instant death. No, what he needed was a dose of Brennan. His friend had a blunt way of putting things, and he needed someone to be truthful. Besides, no one except Jenny at NCIS knew about Jeanne. He intended to keep it that way.

'Hypothetically, let's say I have a friend,' Tony started.

Temperance immediately narrowed her eyes. 'You know I dislike hypothesizing. It's inconclusive and the conclusions that we draw are always superficial and prone to change by the introduction of new facts.'

Tony sighed. He forgot she didn't do subtext.

'Is this about Ziva?'

'How did you know?' Tony asked, amazed.

'Even I notice when someone is _that_…upset. Did something happen? Did you put your arm in your mouth apologizing for what you said in the lab?' Brennan questioned, sounding mildly accusatory.

'It's foot, not arm,' Tony answered nervously. 'Well, of course I apologized but then, you know, the words just kinda came out like verbal vomit and-'

Temperance wrinkled her nose at his description. 'What exactly did you say?'

'I may have brought up Roy,' Tony admitted, watching her blue eyes thin into tiny slits.

'You did what?' Temperance breathed.

'I'm an ass okay? I know that. And now she keeps calling me DiNozzo and can barely look at me.'

'Well, I don't blame her. Not only were you an ass, you were an unfeeling one,' Temperance informed him, folding her arms beneath her breasts.

Tony gave her a wry grin.

'I don't understand why you came to me. Angela is more capable of giving advice in this particular area,' Temperance said.

Tony shot her a pleading look. The fact that Temperance hadn't castrated him yet bode well. It was another reason why Tony had gone to her. Ziva and her were a lot alike. Both closed off, private with their emotions, strong, independent. They had this air about them that both pulled you in and made you want to check that you'd strapped the bulletproof vest tight around your chest. The amazing capacity they both had to love and hurt was uncanny.

If there was anyone who knew the way Ziva's mind worked, it would be the forensic anthropologist standing before him.

'_Please _Temp.'

She exhaled noisily before speaking. 'Everytime you say something that paints Ziva as this…unfeeling killing machine, you hurt her. I know you say it in jest,' she told him, holding up a hand to stem any protest from him. 'But you more than anyone know how words can be equally as effective in wounding someone. Ziva hasn't had an easy life, both in Israel and right here.'

'She seems alright,' Tony mumbled, remembering a time she had come back glowing one Tuesday when she had had a date with some secret guy she refused to tell him about. He had tried going through her phone but Ziva had made sure to keep everything password protected or deleted.

Temperance gave him a piercing look, as if suddently realizing something.

'Why did you really want to speak to me Tony? And don't lie. I know when you are.'

That made him pause. Jeanne. Should he or shouldn't he? If he did, he would be jeopardizing a months long NCIS covert operation. He would be forced to examine his relationship with Jeanne. He would be forced to confront his relationship with Ziva.

_Blunt, honest truth. _

'I can't tell you much. It's…no one knows. It's classified,' Tony begun hesitantly.

'I believe if the State Department, CIA and various other governmental agencies can entrust me with beyond top secret information, you should have nothing to worry about,' Temperance reassured him matter-of-factly.

'I think I'm in love,' he blurted out. He watched as her blue eyes widened slightly.

'With Ziva?'

'What? No. No, no, no,' Tony corrected hastily, waving his hands about. _Maybe I am._ He shook his head.

'There's this girl. Woman. She's a doctor and she has these dimples just here. And she makes me feel good inside. Like, I get this warm, fuzzy feeling inside my chest.'

'Okay,' Temperance said. 'But you _think _you love her?'

Tony thought his quick glance at Ziva would pass by her unnoticed. He forgot for a second who he was dealing with.

'You can't do this to her,' Brennan told him firmly.

'Do what to who?'

'Whom,' she said, before raising a finger to emphasize her point. 'Since my partnership with Booth, I've become slightly more adept at reading emotion. Granted, my assessments of strangers still require some finetuning-'

'You asked what a sensitive way for telling someone their brother got murdered was,' Tony retorted, wilting beneath the dark look she shot him. 'But of course, that was all part of the process.'

'I can read you just as well as I can read Booth. And Ziva, well, Ziva is someone I can fairly say I can deliver a more than accurate opinion of. And from my interpretations, there is obviously _something _between you two. I believe Angela refers to it as unresolved sexual tension. Therefore I took this opportunity to study you.'

'I thought you said psychology was a soft science that was prone to erroneous suppositions,' Tony remarked, unsure what else to say.

'While this observation is rudimentary at best, I believe that I can safely claim that you have Rule 12 feelings for Ziva.'

'No, I don't,' Tony quickly denied. 'I'm in love with Jeanne.'

'You said you _think _you're in love with Jeanne. There's a difference.'

'Thinking can lead to knowing.'

'Tony, you're my friend and I want whatever makes you happy. But Ziva's my friend too. And since you _think _you love Jeanne, you can't keep treating Ziva the way you do. Right now, an impartial observer would think, coupled with all the flirting that you do and the way you both allow the other to invade each other's personal space,' Temperance paused here meaningfully, 'that there is _something _between the two of you.'

'Ah, but Gibbs hasn't head slapped me into the next century. So obviously your theory is flawed,' Tony pointed out. 'And I always flirt. I flirt with you and Angie all the time. It's part of the DiNozzo package.' He leered at her suggestively.

Temperance gave him a peeved look. 'I'm serious Anthony.'

Damn. Whenever she used his first name like that, he knew he was in trouble.

'I'm not _trying _to do anything with Ziva. I'm pretty sure she tolerates me on a daily basis. Hell would freeze over the day she feels anything for me beyond being another brother in blue.'

'You're not wearing blue.'

'I meant that she just sees me as a partner Temp. There's nothing there. It's just…for some reason…whenever I see Jeanne I think I see Ziva and it's confusing the hell outta me. Not to mention making me want to check myself into a psych ward.' A bitter chuckle.

Temperance gave him a helpless look. 'So you think you love Jeanne but you think you like Ziva?'

_Yes._

'I don't know,' he muttered, turning his eyes away from hers.

'I think you need to talk to Jeanne.'

'About Ziva?' Tony asked her in alarm. 'Are you kidding? That's like the death knell of any relationship right there. You can't talk to your girlfriend about another woman.'

'No. Though I don't see why speaking to the woman you think you love about the woman you think you like, but obviously regard as a simply a partner, would in any way allow this dilemma to be resolved more expeditiously.'

'You lost me with all those five dollar words.'

'I think you need to talk to Jeanne and then examine her responses and decide how they make you feel.'

'That's it? Gather data and analyze? That's all you can give me?' Tony was incredulous.

'You're not telling me everything,' Temperance reminded him. Tony winced, guilty. 'So therefore I'm working with the information I have available to me. Speak to Jeanne and apologize to Ziva for being an insensitive jackass. At least you can start there.'

'Yeah, okay. Fine. I'll go start saying I'm sorry.' Tony looked over at where Ziva sat, nursing something that looked like hard liquor. He had really pissed her off.

'I suggest groveling and working your way through other demeaning methods of expressing remorse.'

'Thanks,' Tony mumbled. Looking up at Temperance, he repeated the word more sincerely.

'Just…make sure this sunset doesn't pass,' she told him, saying the Mark Twain quote he had told her. Temperance patted him on the arm, pushing her way through the crowd to get to Booth, who appeared to be boring a hole through Tony's head.

_Perfect. An ex-Ranger or a lethal assassin. At least they'd both make sure I die quick and easy. At least, I hope so._

Squaring his shoulders, Tony started towards the small table where Ziva was.

It was time to start making things right. No matter how futile it was going to be once she found out the truth.


	3. Chapter 3

**This takes place in 'Remember The Time', when Tony stops by Brennan's as mentioned in Chapter 2.**

Tony had never really been in love.

What was love, really? Gibbs had been married four times. Abby and Probie hadn't lasted as long as Tony thought they would have (though there was no mistaking the multitude of unsaid words neither had ever expressed to the other). Palmer's girlfriend had ended up being a traitor, no matter how good Agent Lee's intentions.

But then he had seen Brennan with Booth. The way his friend's normally closed off demeanour had melted away, dissolving into something more _soft_, more feminine. Temperance had become less likely to shy away from her feelings, more willing to embrace the uncharted abyss of human emotion. Most important of all, she was _happy_. He could see it in the way her eyes would light up whenever the former Ranger was around. Some part of her would always be within reach of Booth was well, though Tony believed this was subconscious.

She smiled a lot more.

So he had given things with Jeanne a shot. A small part of him rebelled at the thought of falling for the red-haired doctor. An Israeli with olive skin and thick black hair would often invade his mind during sleep, leaving Tony waking up befuddled and more confused than he was before.

Jeanne was a job, he had to keep reminding himself. Anthony DiNardo was nothing like Tony DiNozzo – aside from the fact that they shared much in common except their name. But Jeanne knew a façade, a character constructed for the sole purpose that he could unravel her father's network and satiate the revenge evident in Jenny's eyes.

Against his will, against everything that screamed at him to be _smart _about this, Tony had found himself enthralled with Jeanne Benoit.

Maybe it was the normalcy of it all. She was a doctor, not a Mossad agent trained in the dark arts. She laughed at his jokes unlike a certain colleague of his. The cincher was that she was attracted to him and wasn't shy about it.

Whatever was between Ziva and him, whatever Temperance had hinted at that night in the Blue Oyster, seemed inconsequential when confronted with a woman who was tangible and within reach. Jeanne didn't try to hide who she was from him – in fact, she seemed to welcome him into the depths of her mind and soul. Her heart was freely given and Tony had hesitantly accepted, unsure about what to do with it.

_Tell her the truth._

But he hadn't. Years spent training under Gibbs had instilled the mission within him. The job came first, everything second. Some part of him warned that Gibbs had never had a successful relationship, that he was still single and old and that Tony didn't want to be that way in a few years. Nonetheless, Anthony DiNardo became a haven and Jeanne his saviour.

It had all unraveled after that.

His car had exploded. Jeanne had gazed at him, pale eyes narrowed in hurt, as she had let go of his hand and walked away from Tony.

_Everything was a lie._

Booth had died and Tony had observed in detatched wonder at the way Temperance had mourned for him. It was painful, loosing the woman he had come to love and watching someone he cared for suffer so needlessly. But, unlike Tony, Temperance had got her other half back.

The anger that had erupted surprised Tony. Booth was, in general, 'a good guy'. Sure he was paranoid about Brennan's interactions with any man that wasn't him, was prone to short-tempered outbursts and was sometimes a bit too dedicated to his job.

_Like, for instance, faking his death._

Noticing the growing void between the partners, Tony had thought his words at the party would have shed some light for Booth.

Because he was right. Temperance had made Booth to be a saint. Of course she was aware of his faults, but to her, he was the one that had showed her that using her heart was more than okay. In fact, it was practically demanded. The guilt that Booth harboured for inflicting that wound was noticeable, and Tony wasn't sure what exactly had transpired between them, but Temperance had become more wary of her boyfriend, as if she didn't trust herself enough to trust him.

So when things with Jeanne had gone up in a great big whirl of towering flames, he had staggered to Brennan's door. Probie was too…McGee didn't need to see this side of him, this broken, wounded side. Gibbs wasn't allowed to. And Ziva…well, Ziva would have just made everything worse with her mere presence.

His suit had been a mess, his hair ungelled and flat against his head. He didn't even care that his eyes were red or that his nose looked like Rudolph's.

If there was one person who wouldn't judge him, it was Temperance.

She had gently placed him on the couch and returned with some scotch.

Tony had always been partial to scotch. He didn't really like the taste of it. It was more the memories that the beverage conjured.

_His father sitting at the table, cigar in mouth and glass of scotch ready at his side. Telling him how one day he was going to sit behind this table, keep the family name._

_Gibbs unexpectedly placing a bottle of Glenfidditch down on his table, saying, 'Happy birthday DiNozzo. Don't give yourself alcohol poisoning.'_

_Kate and him at her house, a large mug of scotch between them, aimlessly wondering whether they would always be the job._

No words were exchanged. Brennan had simply poured them a finger each, and they had spent the night slowly draining the decanter dry. The world had blurred pleasantly in reply, his mind shutting down to a noiseless hum. Suddenly everything seemed inconsequential.

Who was he again?

He had awoken some time later during the night. The apartment was dark and a pillow was tucked underneath his head. A worn afghan was trying to cover the length of him.

Sitting up ever so slowly, ever so quietly – and wincing when his head protested and his vision swam – Tony reached for the pad of paper lying next to the phone.

Scribbling something down, two words that said so little but conveyed so much, he cast one last look at her bedroom door.

Standing, stretching, Tony placed the note on his pillow. Folded the afghan up.

It was dark but for some reason, Tony felt slightly better. That pain in his heart…

_I know how much you cared for her Tony._

Ziva's words rang though his head.

Urgh.

Head. Death. Pain.

'Thanks Tempe.' His words were a whisper, lost in the darkness.

Locking her front door behind him, Tony thought it was time he buried the dead.


End file.
